


Crucible

by rosalind25



Series: Not That Woman [3]
Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, F/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 19:05:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15647055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosalind25/pseuds/rosalind25
Summary: Marian knows where her heart lies, but not where this will lead.A series of three short vignettes, set in S2.





	Crucible

“Do this, kill the Sheriff, and I will reward you.” Marian pauses. A pulsing of grief, not knowing for sure whether or not Robin is dead, wondering if this is a promise she would actually keep. “When we return to England, I will marry you.”

It’s manipulation, brazen and unkind, demeaning Guy’s love for her until it’s nothing but a bargaining tool. They both know it.

_I’ve_ _lost_ , she thinks, as he leaves the room. She doesn’t believe for a moment that he’ll do it, not now, not when he’s steeped deeper than ever in the Sheriff’s plans. But hope is a persistent thing, fluttering at the edges of her mind like a trapped bird beating at a window. At one point, it even fools her into thinking she hears Robin’s voice. A ludicrous fancy.

She sits in the bare room, her skin sticky in the heat, waiting. She is thirsty, and hungry, but bodily discomfort seems trivial compared to the despair which sits like a rock in her stomach. It seems incredible to her that she should be here. That one desperate gamble – after so many years of careful, clandestine resistance – should have led her to this, confined by chains in a stifling basement, without allies or resources or any chance of reprieve.

The Sheriff comes to gloat, confirming it. _I have lost_. Guy had been her last shred of hope; now that it’s fully gone, she recognises it has been there all along by its absence.

But incredibly, Vaisey is the one who returns it. Not unqualified or simple – nothing is, where he is concerned – as they are strung up in the sun and left there to die. But Robin is alive…and here…and if the desert will suck the moisture from her it will take up tears of joy rather than sorrow or fear.

_I Marian, take thee Robin of Locksley…._

Not the greenwood, nothing like what a joining of hearts should be like, but she will take it. What had Guy once said? _Don’t_ _let them take this from us._ Well, she won’t; she will let Robin know all that he is to her – _keeper of my heart_ \- and she will comfort dear Much as he sheds his tears, and she will feel Robin’s back pressed against hers, straining to be closer to him, as they are denied their first kiss as man and wife.

And then - like justice uncurling itself, as if no longer content to sit silent in the corner of a room - Carter appears.

And they are free.

                                          ------------------------------------------------------------------------

Desperation powers her sprint across the courtyard. She stands between Guy and the injured King.

_Marian, get out of the way. I will do this thin g, and when we return to England we will be married._

Marian is puzzled by this for a moment, stunned that he should be thinking this, even now, when it’s so very far from any reality that she knows. She can see what she’s done, the depths of his delusion, and what she must undo. And perhaps, too, it will buy the king some time; just a few moments, and surely Robin will be there.

And suddenly it seems right and true and fair, that she should bring her love for Robin out into the open, letting it breathe the light of day instead of shrouding it in the shade. That she does this so cruelly – _I would rather die than be with you, Guy of Gisborne_ – is her anger at him. Anger and disappointment, that after all they’ve been through, after all her hopes for him, that he should stand there with that great sword in his grip, understanding _nothing_ \- just steps away from regicide, here in this crucible of conflicting aims and dark intent.

Perhaps someone had been put on this earth to save Guy of Gisborne from himself but if so, she is not that woman. She never has been.

It bubbles out of her in a rush now, too much gladness in her to stop it. Yet some part of her registers Guy’s stillness, the loss of his purpose. It doesn’t dam her words. _I love Robin Hood._ She’s not afraid of Guy, even now; she knows in her heart that he will never hurt her.

But what she sees cross his face then, a blankness, a loss too deep to comprehend as she rips away the core of his life, should be a warning. He is lost. Her taunts whip his despair, not considering that a beaten dog still has teeth with which to rend, with which to lash out one last time.

He lunges. And there is no more room for thought. He pushes the blade home; the sky reels behind his horror-filled eyes.

She is no longer Marian of Knighton, but a useless puppet of flesh, impaled, and the agony of this, the fierce, _incomprehensible_ agony of it, will be the last thing that she knows.

Her hand scrabbles in the sand; is lifted, and cradled, oh so tenderly.

No, not the last then.

_ Robin……. my love…. _

And there isn’t enough strength left in her ravaged frame, nor enough time or words or caresses, to make up for all that they will lose, for all that has been stolen. She asks – yes, she has saved the king – and they repeat their vows, so there can be no doubt as she leaves this earth that she is Lady Marian of Locksley.

The light behind him gilds his hair.

He weeps for her, and the desperate love in his eyes is to her both the warmth of the undying sun, and the sum of all that she has ever dreamed.  


End file.
